A Lesson Learned Early On
by El Stormo
Summary: This is a story based on the Vampire: The Masquerade Bloodlines game, but in a different time frame. Enjoy! To see my other stories in this category, don't forget to display 'All age categories' :
1. Chapter 1 of 4

"Staked and left for the sunrise, you say?" Lord Farnsworth asked, staring into the fireplace. The figure in the other chair nodded.

"I see," Farnsworth said. "It would seem we are dealing with an adversary who finds particular relish in cruelty." His legs were crossed, one ankle on the other knee. His one hand stroked his light silver-gray beard. The other fished in the pockets of his red silken robe. "Best to wear this tonight." His hand came up with a silver medallion in it. "It was my late Sire's amulet, long ago. Made of silver stolen from the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris, soaked in the blood of a bishop for a fortnight, and re-forged with an ebony hammer. It should protect you from the humans' Divine powers, at least most of the time."

He tossed the amulet to the other, who caught it deftly and twirled the artifact before his eyes.

"But remain cautious," Farnsworth said sharply. "You are still vulnerable to the humans' weapons," he leaned in closer, "and their ruses. You are almost beyond being a Neonate, apprentice, but you are still reckless and you still have the nonchalance of the Fledgling in you."

The apprentice frowned.

"I fear your overconfidence will one day be your undoing. You see only your goals, and not the dangers in your way."

Farnsworth resumed staring at the dying fire. It was so typical for him to still light a fire. The warmth of it was useless to his dead body, but that wasn't why he had the fire going. It was all part of his constant and vain struggle to recapture the feelings of the lost joys of life.

At length he turned back to his apprentice. "Be on your guard this night, be sure to sleep in a well protected place, and _wear the medallion!_ Hunters are not to be underestimated!"

Farnsworth rose from his red leather baroque chair. "Now, if there's nothing else?"

The apprentice didn't reply and Farnsworth only said, "I shall retire for the night," before exiting the room.

Alone now, the dying fire reflecting red on his eyes and the silver around his neck, the apprentice now sat staring at the fireplace.

Farnsworth was a font of great knowledge, but he was also completely without ambition, which was considerably rare for a Tremere, content to sit in his parlour, gaze into his fire and contemplate all manner of existential philosophies while mostly staying out of the Vampiric power struggles that had always attracted the apprentice so. There was power to be had, but Farnsworth was too afraid of the competition to actively seek it, only having the interests of the spice colony at heart – and even then. And so the apprentice was condemned to wait in the shadows until this mentor saw it fit to cut him loose.

And now Farnsworth's lack of influence had cost him dearly. One of the apprentices, his Tremere childe to make it worse, had already paid for it with her extinction. There were hunters around, and they weren't the typical incompetent and ignorant ghosthunters and self-proclaimed paranormals who protected themselves with garlic and who believed they were safe so long as they didn't invite the Vampires into their homes. No, these hunters weren't that kind. They _knew_. They knew Vampires were real, and they were trained in destroying them. Which meant that they probably had come all the way from Europe.

The apprentice that was destroyed had been Tremere, however, so the hunters had actually done the Kindred a service. The fewer scheming Tremere in the world, the better. Still, the death of a Vampire at the hands of a hunter was always bad news. It was the second already. Sören had been killed first. Worthless Malkavian. Still, there were three more apprentices left. Himself, Sévigny the Gangrel and Roland the Toreador.

The apprentice picked up his rifle and proceeded out, into the warm African air. A servant took of his hat and stepped forward to inquire about his needs, but the apprentice brushed him out of the way. Savage! He proceeded to the waiting coach. "To the villa, and be quick about it," he snapped at the driver as he got in. He held up the amulet to his eyes, as the coach rambled up the hill to his villa, a small cottage compared to Farnsworth's. And as he held up the medallion, a realization dawned on him.


	2. Chapter 2 of 4

The lock on the villa door was easily opened. It had been almost as easy to cut the throat of the servant standing guard on the porch. He quietly slipped the sharp wooden stake out of his pocket and looked out the window. Just before dawn. Perfect. The ideal time to stake a Vampire. They didn't like taking chances and so they usually retired to their lairs well before dawn, so as not to be surprised by the sun. Well, this one would be in for a surprise of a different nature, though. Foul creatures. There would be another triumph for the Lord and his servants tonight!

The stair didn't even creak when he ascended it. No matter if it did though. The only thing that could happen was that a servant woke up, but he had his crossbow to deal with those. The door to the creature's lair wasn't even locked. Ha! Foolish creature! His ruse had apparently worked. Given the creature a false sense of security.

The monster's motionless shape lay on the bed, fully dressed in expensive silk, hands folded in a mockery of a blessed body before burial. Sacrilege! It would be a pleasure to stake this one and then open the shutters and wait for holy and purifying daylight to flood in, driving the abomination to the Hell it should have been imprisoned in a long time ago.

He gently shut the door and slowly advanced on the sleeping figure, stake raised and ready to be driven down into the monster's chest. In instants it would plunge down, through its vile heart.

He had reached the bed. His body tensed, two hands lifted the stake and he closed his eyes to channel the divine power and say a silent prayer before slamming the stake downwards and opening his eyes again. But when he did so, the bed was empty and the stake met no resistance. He overbalanced and fell into the bed as the stake dug into the mattress.

A gleeful laugh sounded behind him. He whipped his head around and saw the creature standing there – a rifle aimed at him.


	3. Chapter 3 of 4

"I see you were counting on overconfidence on my part?" the apprentice said with a smirk. The hunter didn't reply, instead he looked to the bed, and then back to the apprentice in amazement. The Vampire laughed diabolically. "Surely… if you were fooled by such a simple Domination, I'm amazed that you succeeded in destroying your previous victim. Ah, but where are my manners. Sebastian LaCroix, at your service. I'm sure you'll forgive me for not shaking your hand?"

The hunter's face contracted. "Fiend!" He spoke with a thick German accent. "Vhezher you kill me or not, your kind shall burn in ze fires of Hell!"

The Vampire chuckled. "Doubtless. And when I confess my crimes, who shall I say that I have shot in cold blood?"

"If you decide to shoot me, foul creature, tell ze demons it vas ze blood of Friedrich Bach zat clinks to your hands! Zat you have made him a martyr and sent him straight to Heaven!"

"Heaven, you say?"

"Indeed! And ve shall meet again, vhen Chtuchment Day comes and ze forces of Hell shall be crushed, by ze righteous fist of ze Lord!"

"We'll see about that, shall we? For now you appear to be on the side of the losers," LaCroix said flatly. He raised his rifle and shot Bach through the head. A blast rent the silence and Bach's brains splattered against the wall, the stake fell to the ground and his body collapsed on top of it. LaCroix calmly took the empty shell from the smoking rifle and discarded it. "If your God loves you so much, you should ask yourself why he has let you die this way."

The sound of the shot had brought servants running, and one of them crashed into the room, wide-eyed and in night clothing. The servant gasped at the sight of the dead body on the ground and the red and gray blast against the wall.

"Clean this up," LaCroix said simply. "I shall retire in the guest room."


	4. Chapter 4 of 4

"And did he say anything before you shot him?" Farnsworth asked, staring into the fire as was his wont.

"He only gave his name," LaCroix replied curtly.

"That's all?"

LaCroix shrugged. "And some wash about how all of us shall burn in Hell."

Farnsworth chuckled. Something he rarely did. "Yes, yes, they're always like that, aren't they."

LaCroix rose from his chair. "There was…" he began as he slowly walked to the painting on the wall opposite the fireplace. It depicted a Greek warrior being attacked by a boar. The warrior had lost his weapons and had his hands up in a pleading gesture, but the boar appeared to be charging nonetheless. "…one thing I noticed though."

Farnsworth turned his head. "Oh?"

LaCroix kept his back turned and continued to gaze at the painting.

"Sebastian."

When LaCroix still didn't move or answer, Farnsworth rose from his chair and raised his voice. "Sebastian! I asked you a question!"

At length Sebastian LaCroix turned around. "He was strangely confident… sloppy almost."

Farnsowrth waved his words away irritably. "They're always like that. They think their Lord will protect them how ever foolish they may act." He made to sit again.

"Someone this sloppy could never outwit Okamba."

Farnsworth didn't sit. "Okamba? Let's not overestimate her. Even though she became one of us, she was still a savage. And despite her newly-Kindred nature, she still believed her powers were the result not of her Blood, but of some savage power's blessing."

"Quite a disrespectful way to speak of your newly-deceased Childe…" LaCroix said with a sneer. "…even for a Tremere," he added cynically.

Farnsworth's eyes narrowed. "Don't use that tone with me, _Neonate_! Okamba was a Childe with great potential, I never disputed that!"

"My point exactly," Sebastian said with a smirk, which promptly vanished again. "She would never have let herself get so easily be slaughtered by such an arrogant hunter. Uless, of course…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless the hunter had help, somehow."

"Farnsworth's eyes narrowed again. "What do you mean?"

"No hunter is so arrogant," LaCroix explained, "unless he knows his quarry will be unable to resist."

"Possible." Farnsworth thought for a while. "Get to the bottom of this, Sebastian. I'm trusting you to find the culprit. If we have a traitor among us, he must be put to the flame." Farnsworth took his coat from the back of his chair and threw it around his shoulders. "I'll show you out."

"No need, Farnsworth. Stay where you are."

Farnsworth's mouth fell open. "I _beg your pardon!"_

"When I rode home yesterday, I suddenly realized that it was a strange thing for a mentor to give such a powerful artifact to an apprentice when his own life is clearly in danger. Wasn't it you who taught me to look out for yourself first?"

"Well, yes, but I have plenty of other protections so I d - "

"And I found it quite strange," LaCroix interrupted, "that I was unable to Dominate any of my servants while that amulet was around my neck, or in my pocket even."

"Ha! Are _you_ going to lecture _me_ about magical items? Sometimes artifacts have unexpected effects on some powers! Of course, a _Neonate_ like you doesn't know this!"

"I don't believe that this effect was entirely unexpected."

"_What?_"

LaCroix remained silent. Suddenly Farnsworth pointed at LaCroix threateningly and growled, "How dare you! If your Sire were here instead of in comfortable Europe, he'd burn some respect into you! If you're suggesting th- "

"I'm not _suggesting_ anything, Farnsworth." LaCroix said calmly. "I'm saying it straight out. You were the one who told the hunters the location of my villa. You were the one who gave out a disrupting necklace, first to Okamba and then to me. You sent that Hunter after us, knowing that the amulet would undo our powers." He took a large revolver out of his jacket. "Am I right? _That's_ why Okamba let herself get slaughtered. She relied on her powers to alert and defend her."

Farnsworth laughed nervously. "Ridiculous! If I hadn't sworn an oath to your Sire and if you weren't my apprentice, I'd- "

"You'd _what_, Farnsworth?" LaCroix shouted, cocking the hammer. "There are no hunters to do your work for you now!"

"You are a fool, Sebastian! Yes, I sacrificed my pawns to keep the King safe! Yes I betrayed you to the hunters so they wouldn't realize that I'm a Vampire! But that knowledge will do you no good, _Neonate_! You've forgotten whom you're dealing with! You may have discovered my treason, but you've been the arrogant fool you've always been to confront me openly with it! Your little revolver is useless against me! The shots will be nothing but child's shoves for me! You've signed your own death warrant, fool! I'll obliterate you without even breaking a sweat!" Farnsworth raised his hands and his form was a black shade surrounded with the outline of the fire in the fireplace. He shouted a power word and threw his hands forward, but nothing happened. Startled, he looked at the palms of his hands as if the answers were written there.

LaCroix laughed. "You might wish to inquire as to my reasons of having such a long conversation with you if I was already certain of your guilt."

Farnsworth ignored the question and attempted to cast another spell, but the effect was the same.

"Speechless, Lord Farnsworth?" Allow me to explain. I was simply waiting for you to don your coat, as I knew you would, you with your sad human habits."

"What? Why, what- "

"Oh, it wasn't the coat itself that mattered. What I slipped into one of the pockets was far more important."

Suddenly Farnsworth's eyes widened in understanding, but too late. Sebastian LaCroix pulled the trigger of his heavy revolver again and again. A series of deafening blasts sounded when the shots went off, striking Farnsworth in the chest. Every shot blew a fist-sized hole in his coat and robe and sent him staggering one step backwards. The last shot caused him to stumble against the fireplace. The ends of his silken robe promptly caught fire and the flames greedily pounced, whooshing up along Farnsworth's clothes and turning him into a shrieking, flailing pillar of flame. The burning Farnsworth screeched hysterically, and his fiery limbs set fire to the carpet, curtains, paintings and furniture. His screams eventually turned into a bubbling gurgle as his charred body crashed to the burning ground. Sebastian LaCroix hadn't stayed to watch the spectacle.

From his vantage point on the hill, Sebastian LaCroix watched the villa of Lord Denholm Charlton Farnsworth burn. And as he watched the villa collapse in an inferno of burning beams and fiery walls, he learned a lesson most Kindred never did: Underestimate no one, not even your own apprentice.

He returned to his coach, and as he rode to his villa, he wondered what would would happen now. Farnsworth had a few apprentices left, but none had the desire, the wit or the mettle to take charge. So that duty fell on his shoulders and he would take it on without complaint or reluctance. With Farnsworth gone, the colony had the opportunity for a strong, and most importantly, an intelligent leader. Since he had proven himself to be capable of outwitting his very mentor, it was only fitting that he donned the cloak of leadership.

And his first act as a leader would be to provide the colony with a protector and him, with an enforcer. One of the slaves, a true giant of a man, would fit this role nicely. But he wouldn't be Ventrue material. Sévigny the Gangrel would be glad to assist him though. Yes, Gangrel would be perfect.


End file.
